Against the Tide

Harry was in the Great Hall at five the next morning, waiting for the Daily Prophet and the early mail for the Underground. Rita Skeeter had promised them an advanced copy of the Prophet, and Harry had volunteered to collect, so Hermione could have a lie-in. Harry was pleased that she'd decided against running for election, as it would only be one thing more on her already full plate.

The Prophet arrived, with news of the election sharing the front page with news from the war. Harry caught himself as he began to ignore the report from the latest attack- after all, only three people had died. It was fairly minor, but Harry forced himself to read it. The details were gristly, and Harry pushed his breakfast away. You'd think they'd know better than put details like that into the morning edition, Harry thought.

Skimming Skeeter's article on the election as he collected the mail for the Underground, he admitted maybe the reporter had reformed. She seemed to love Hermione, quoting her often, calling her the leader of the 'student democratic movement,' praising her for starting S.P.E.W., and saying she'd be Minister for Magic one day. The other paper staff had received only cursory interest, and Harry was happy that for once, he wasn't the story.

There were other articles relating to the Board of Governors, and once he saw the headlines of them, he began to collect the papers reader comments and dashing towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Hermione, thank Merlin you're awake," Harry panted. Hermione was sitting by the fire with Ron. "Fudge has done it, he's gone and done it, and appointed two new members."

Hermione snatched the paper from his hands and the mail scattered to the floor. Ron stooped to help pick him up. "Who?" Ron asked. "When?"

"Last night, after we had our elections," Harry said. "And he appointed Professor McGonagall and-"

"And your mother," Hermione finished. Ron didn't have time to sputter before Hermione continued. "It says that he sent the Owls out late last night, and that neither McGonagall or Molly were advised ahead of time."

"But, my dad's Fudge's advisor. He must have known!" Ron said, finally getting that splutter out.

"Maybe not," Hermione said and she started towards the door.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, as he and Ron began to follow her.

"Yes?" she replied, turning back to them at the Fat Lady's portrait hole.

"Where are you going?" Ron supplied.

"Oh- well, to see McGonagall, of course," she said. "Maybe we can convince her to turn it down."

"But isn't a seat for the faculty part of our 'movement'?" Harry asked. "Can we ask her to say no?"

Again Hermione stopped. "Shit!" she swore. Ron shot Harry a dangerous look.

"Ignore that, Hermione. We demanded seats for ourselves. We held elections. We deserve those seats before the professors get one. We've done all the work!"

"No, no. Harry's right. We can't ask her to turn it down. If we do, Fudge'll trap us, say we haven't any clear idea of what we want, say were just kids... No, we won't ask her to turn it down," Hermione said, as she turned a corner, crumpled the paper and punched it into the air triumphantly. "No, we'll endorse her!" With that she ran down the stairs to the Press Room, calling to them to assemble 'the troops'.

Ron turned to Harry and sighed. "You know, before you came in, we were having a heart-to-heart," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Nearly had her knickers off," Ron grinned and turned away from the Entrance Hall staircase, and ran towards Ravenclaw Turret. "You take Hufflepuff and Gryffindor!"

An hour later, every student in school knew what had happened- although, perhaps not Goyle and Crabbe. They always had a slightly vacant expression if told anything before they'd eaten breakfast. The other students were outraged, but agreed to Hermione's scheme to outmaneuver Fudge by endorsing McGonagall. She'd had to explain it twice to Draco, who was as bad as Crabbe and Goyle, although it was coffee he had needed.

"So, we endorse McGonagall, but don't drop our demands for two reps?" Draco asked. "But, Hermione, there are two seats up for grabs now. We'll be waiting forever for a member of the Board to die!"

"No, I already see it, Draco," Hermione said as she calmly salted her eggs. "We press for our two seats, what is Fudge going to do?" Draco shrugged and tried to drink his mug of coffee in one swallow. "He's going to appoint two students, just to get us off his back."

The entire table, which was a mix of paper staff and upper-year students, groaned. "Hermione, that's the last thing Fudge'll do, appoint Tobe and Susan," Ron argued.

"Oh!" Morag cried. "I understand! He'll appoint two other students, to make it look like he's trying to compromise- to which we ask why Susan and Tobe are so scary!"

"Close Morag. However," Hermione said, digging into her bag, "we have this lovely petition, signed by every student in school, saying they support democratically elected student representatives. And as per my usual brilliance, this petition is a legally, and magically binding, contract. I even put it in the small print this time. See?" Hermione pointed to very small lettering that proved, indeed, they all were subject to 'horrifying mishaps' should they break their word.

Draco looked at Hermione as if he'd kiss her. "This is going to work. You're tricky like a Goblin, Hermione! Fudge'll kick off two members, probably his supporters who won't make to much fuss and'll be rewarded elsewhere. They'll be replaced with two students who'll become poxed pariah's if they accept, and we'll get what we want."

"Yes, I think. Ron, you're best at this. What do you think?"

Ron pulled a sour look. "Which Ron are you asking?" he growled quietly at Hermione. Harry was sure he was the only one who heard, and the only one who'd understand; Ron was not going to tell her if the scheme would work, but whether it could.

"Ron Weasley, the Chess god," Hermione whispered back.

"I think it might work, but we'll need to follow through with our other action," Ron said to the table at large. "We can't let it seem like this has stopped or altered our plans."

"How are our plans, Regan?" Harry asked.

"Ready to go out on a strike of classes today, should we want to. And we'll be prepared for the march next Friday."

"I think it would be good if we also support Mrs. Weasley," Morag said. "She's sympathetic, right?"

Ginny shrugged. "Not really, but she'll support us, I know. Shall I write her, then?"

Ginny went off to write her mother, while Harry, Hermione, Tobias and Susan went to speak with McGonagall. The others spread out to explain what was going on.

"You want me to accept?" McGonagall asked incredulously. "I thought you wanted those seats? I was beginning to agree with you, as well. Your conduct has been very good, considering."

"We won't be dropping our demands for Susan and Tobias, Professor," Hermione explained. "We simply agree whole-heartedly with your appointment. You certainly deserve the seat, and you'll do a good job of representing the faculty."

Professor McGonagall wasted only a moment looking touched. She immediately looked suspicious. "What do you plan to do to get those seats, Ms. Granger?"

"I've already told you that, Professor," Hermione said as the delegation excused them selves.

A ruckus was ensuing in the Entrance Hall when the turned the corner. Three Ministry wizards were in the Hall, trying to get onto the staircase to the Dungeons, while students were blocking their path. Regan Miller had begun chanting, which began to echo off the high roof as dozens of students joined with him, "We'll go ten rounds for the Underground!"

"What's this?" Hermione demanded as she tore down the stairs, Harry right beside her, and Ron flanking in from the side. "What's this?" In the air above, Peeves kept dive-bombing the hostile looking adults. Harry was horrified when one wizard turned around and was Percy Weasley.

"Ms. Granger, Editor-in-Chief of the Underground?" Percy, who appeared in command, asked as if he'd never seen Hermione before. "Here is a order from the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, demanding the confiscation of the Underground's printing press and all materials concerned."

Hermione grabbed the parchment and skimmed it, before passing it off to Morag, who seemed to read it over with a sharp eye, looking for a loophole. "I'm sorry, Percy, but we disbanded the Underground this morning," Hermione said icily. "The printing press and 'all materials concerned' now belong to the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, of which I am the Chairman, and as such, have the right of attorney over them." Morag whispered something in her ear, but she brushed her off impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger," Percy replied, "but according to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Nine, the Minister has the right to confiscate property which the Board of Governors has deemed inappropriate for students, regardless of ownership. The Board seems to feel your little printing press is inappropriate and is leading to the misguidance of younger students," Percy said snidely. As if to prove his point, he nodded towards the students blocking the path to the Dungeons.

"Oh, dry up, Percy," Charlie said, making an entrance with Professors Flitwick, 'Tonic', and O'Neill. "You lot aren't taking their printing press," Charlie declared, seizing the parchment from Morag and shoving it into Percy's chest. "They're not doing anything wrong."

"They are directly disobeying the authorities!" Percy said shrilly. What Percy missed at this moment was Professor Flitwick disappearing through the crowd of students and down the stairs. "We have permission to take any who resist into custody!" Percy warned to the group at large.

Harry couldn't help laughing at the absurdity of the idea- three wizards against this mob of students, many of them veterans of the fighting seen last term. Apparently, Percy didn't see it as absurd at all, as he drew his wand and aimed it directly at Hermione. "You will... oomph-" Percy struggled to get the last sound out as Draco hexed him soundly from behind and his mouth zipped shut. Students began laughing and jeering as the other two wizards looked around anxiously for the perpetrator.

Charlie, with a warning glance at Draco and the command for everyone to be quiet, countered the hex and stood Percy up. Flitwick came up to Hermione and whispered something in her ear. He made to dash up the stairs, but Harry grabbed him.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"You students placed a permanent sticking charm onto the printing press," Flitwick explained. "I can't move it, shrink it, or anything. They'll be able to dismantle all but the base and move it off the premises. I'm going for Dumbledore," he squeaked, dashing towards the staircase.

But just then, Dumbledore appeared in the doorway to the Entrance Hall, as if returning from a pleasant walk to an ugly situation. "I have just returned from London," he announced. "It seems as if we have been sheltering contraband here at Hogwarts. I am afraid, Ms. Granger, that our hands are tied," he said. Turning to Percy, his figure became stiff, his face disapproving. Harry thought he might die of shame if Dumbledore ever looked at him as he looked at Percy just then.

"You," he said, addressing Percy, "may confiscate the printing press, and take it directly to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George Weasley have kindly agreed to house the machine until further arrangements can be made." Percy nodded and the three wizards began to push their way down the stairs. "Oh, one more thing," Dumbledore said softly. Percy turned. "You are never to return to this school, Mr. Weasley. Not while I live."

Percy did not respond. He merely sneered and threw a second-year out of his way.

***

The entire student body barricaded into the Library, expelling Madam Pince, and began deciding what to do.

"We made contingency plans, should this happen," Ron said. "In fact, we thought it might. The Minister and the Board are playing into our hands, really." He wasn't as sure about that as he sounded, but the students liked it. "We've already laid plans to buy time on WWN, to plead our case." Maybe he was fudging the truth a bit, but so had Hermione. "The prefects, Hermione and I have this situation completely under control." He was going to kill Percy! What did he think he was doing, raising his wand to Hermione?

Perce had been lucky Draco hadn't done something irreparable. He'd been lucky the entire student body hadn't launched themselves on him. He'd been lucky all Dumbledore had done was exile him from the school forever- the idea of never retu ning to Hogwarts sent chills down Ron's back, because he knew it would happen to them all.

"Of course, we'll prepare a statement immediately," Hermione said stiltedly. She was still in shock, no doubt. "However, I would like to propose something new. I would like for us to have a strike against classes." The younger students cheered. "This does not mean leisure time," Hermione said sternly. "Older students will help you with your work and assignments already given." Groans broke out among the younger, and older, students. "But, it allows us to show how unmovable we can be."

"How long do you figure to strike for?" a fifth-year Ravenclaw asked.

"Until the Minister capitulates, or until Bonfire Night," Hermione said. "A protest on Halloween, when the Board meets in Hogsmeade, will force the Minister to act by then. If he continues to refuse, we won't be able to continue the strike, as this is a school, but we'll come up with something else."

A bit of debate formed a general consensus to strike, and plans were made. The first- to fourth-years would be in classes with older students teaching them; because they couldn't use the actual classrooms, they'd use House Common Rooms instead. Older students not teaching classes could use the Library to do their work. Dean and Seamus were sent to each Professor to collect lesson plans for the next week, and the senior students began to take on a subject and a year to teach. Because first- and second-year classes were so large, nearly one hundred with the Codswallop students, several instructors were needed for each position.

Ron refused to teach Divination, claiming he'd be too busy anyway, and that there were others who received better marks than him. In truth, he didn't want to spread the curse of prophesizing any further. Parvati and Lavender would be good tutors, and fair on useless at actually teaching anything useful.

Once plans were made for Monday, when the strike would begin, Ron announced, with the other Quidditch Captains, a tournament that weekend, which would occupy the students before the 'unpleasantness' began. It was also a way to blow raspberries at the Board, who had delayed the beginning of the Quidditch season until after fall term ended.

At dinner, Dean and Seamus reported that only Snape, Hardbottom and Glyphus had refused to give lesson plans. Snape argued, correctly, Ron supposed, that it was too dangerous to have unqualified people instructing Potions. Instead, he had provided several parchments that explained certain ingredients would always have this or that effect when added to any Potion. He had been more helpful than Ron would have expected, really. Hardbottom and Glyphus simply refused to help- no matter though. Harry could teach Defense himself, no problems, and Hermione had been translating Runic scrolls and parchments for the Order since the summer of sixth year.

In all, things worked fine. Hermione and Draco attended the Coalition for Democracy meeting in Hogsmeade that night, and reported that the Coalition had supported their actions. Hermione had seemed out of sorts once she'd returned though, and had fled to her dormitory the moment she returned- leaving Ron and Harry to deal with all the problems they had decided she would be more suited to. The two of them managed to crawl to their dormitory at two-thirty, hours later than Hermione would have had she dealt with the problems.

On Saturday, the Quidditch tournament went very well, and gave the excuse needed to have the media swarm onto the grounds. They pattered around, taking the odd note about the tournament, which was a rather spectacular success for Gryffindor (naturally), and interviewing everyone they could.

Draco, in between losing to Gryffindor and winning against Hufflepuff, gave the Prophet's reporters an article he wrote, outlining all the misdeeds Fudge had committed against the students at Hogwarts. Among the top three was Umbridge's appointment, and what he had termed "The Year of Hell." It then classified all the horrible things Umbridge had done, especially to Harry, and reminded everyone that Fudge had appointed Umbridge to the Board just a few days ago.

"Quite obviously," Draco had sneeringly intoned, "the man is unhinged." Draco could get away with it because he owned part of the Prophet. They had to print what he said; the other students had to watch what they said. If Ron had said that, his father would probably be fired.

The time they had bought on the WWN was put to good use, with the station re-airing their news bulletins every hour. By Sunday, more mail poured in from sympathetic listener's who had never heard of the Hornblower, the Underground, or known that Hogwarts had a Board of Governors, or that there was a move for democracy.

Of course, criticism was ripe. They got enough letters from people telling them to get real to remind them that they had to tread lightly.

"If we take too much publicity away from Voldemort, he could swing out strongly to regain the public's attention," Ron warned sourly. He hated giving things like this away, but it was needed. It was a way of saving lives, without really changing the future himself. He just gave a hint, which he knew the Gryffindor's would listen to, and action would be taken. "I'd not like that on my conscience." Because I'm guilty of enough deaths, Ron added silently. Some knew that he was thinking it.

"Well, our action ends on Bonfire Night, one way or another," Hermione said. She looked about the table pleadingly (the different House tables were no longer used exclusively by those Houses- half of Gryffindor table was used by conspirators). "Hasn't anyone thought of an idea if we fail with our protest?"

"What else is there to do, Hermione?" Harry asked. "We made our demands, we found our candidate's, we defied the Minister and the Board, we're going out on strike, and will be marching to protest the Board of Governors. We can't bomb Ministry Headquarters- get that glint out of your eye, Gin!" Harry challenged. "You aren't Fred and George."

"Hey! We need outside help," Blaise cried, then immediately went red in the face upon realizing that she had spoken. When everyone insisted she continue, she began to speak quietly and into her plate. "Well, couldn't we ask the groups out there, what have supported us, to apply pressure to the Minister? I'm sure they lobby all the time, so it shouldn't be any different."

"That's a great idea, Blaise," Ron assured her, as he squeezed her knee under the table. He couldn't believe she didn't slap him- instead she looked at him with so much relief, it nearly killed him. If she knew it wasn't her friend he wanted to be, she'd be laughing at him. "You lot better get on that," he nodded towards Hermione, Harry, Draco, Morag, and the others.

"Aren't you helping?" Ginny demanded.

"Me? No!" Ron scoffed. "I'm the shiftless and indolent Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. I'm too busy eating..." Not one but three different females slapped him upside the head as they passed him. Blaise stayed beside him, going over the lesson plan for the History classes she'd teach tomorrow. "How's that, then?" Ron asked, nodding at the pile of parchments.

Blaise sighed, pushing the parchments away from her. "I can't do this, Ron! Whose bright idea was it to have me teach anything?" she asked imploringly. "I'll stutter about, and go red in the face and whisper like a mouse..." she groaned. "Oh, you do it! Please?" Blaise said, passing him a parchment.

"Blaise, do be silly," he chided, passing the parchment back. "I couldn't teach this if I wanted to. At my best, I'd be talking about Quidditch history, and probably get that wrong, anyway. You'll do a bang-up job, you will, and the students will be talking about what a dull teacher O'Neill is."

"No they won't," Blaise said crossly. "O'Neill is a great professor. Really exciting, as you'd know if you hadn't quit the class!"

"Blaise, I was trying to make you feel better," Ron said softly- she was really pretty when she was cross. This was the first he'd noticed, since she'd never shown as much passion. "Blaise, no one is expecting miracles, and I'm sure no one is going to be upset if your voice is quiet. They all know your shy, but they also know you're the best."

Blaise gave Ron a dry smile, and kissed him on the cheek. (Why hadn't he shaved?) "You're right, Ron. I'll be wretched at this, but no one is rude enough to point it out," she said, piling the parchment into her bag. "Although, I'm not sure that's how you meant it," she said laughing, as she swung her bag over her shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, not used to having girls kiss him, then leave abruptly.

"Off to write Stephen, of course." Blasted boyfriends... "He'll be proud of me, agreeing to this. And, really, he's been brave enough to volunteer for the Auror's College, surely I can stand in front of a few fourteen year-olds and repeat a few words," she said, smiling happily now. Bloody, blasted Stephen Cornfoot!

"It's good to put things into perspective, isn't it? I mean, we all scheme here to get this or that, but when compared to what Stephen and the rest are doing, we're nearly petty, yeah?" Blaise said as she leaned toward him to kiss his cheek again before she dashed off to write her boyfriend...

Ron had forgotten about him. If only Blaise would, as well.